Azkaban
by mortenavida
Summary: "Azkaban. It isn't somewhere you'd want to be… Not all of us were old Death Eaters, either." Written for hp neverafter 2010


Author's Note: Written for seatbeltdrivein at Harry Potter Never After 2010

Azkaban. It isn't somewhere you'd want to be. Sure, the place had relaxed a bit after the Dementors were taken care of, but it wasn't your typical run-of-the-mill resort either. The guards were harsher, many of them thinking of different kinds of torture spells to use against us. Most of us believed they should have been Unforgivable, but the new government (created by some dirty Slytherin) turned a blind eye to those of us stuck on this island.

Not all of us were old Death Eaters, either.

Hermione Granger was here, tucked away on the upper parts of the prison. She opened her mouth one too many times and insulted a few old pureblood families. Her sentence would end next year and all she really had to do was help make the food. Kind of ironic considering they treat her just like the elves she once tried to set free.

Cho Chang was in the floor right below Hermione. Ronald Weasley, her fiancé at the time, came home one day to find her trying to raise the dead. The little witch had gotten hold of Cedric Diggory's bones and was painting runes on the house. Ron was forced to turn her in, though he had visited for a while. I don't think she'll leave for quite some time.

Padma Patil came in a few moments ago, screaming and struggling in the arms of the men bringing her in. I had yet to hear what she did to land herself in here – usually the guards like to brag before bringing someone new in. It was going to be interesting, whatever it was. Especially since she ended up on my floor in the cell directly next to mine, and we aren't exactly the nicest lot.

"Longbottom, I know the birds don't interest you, but don't let us catch you sneaking a feel of her."

Oh yes, that would be me. The shirt lifter in the corner was really going to try and feel up on Padma. I refused to answer, choosing instead to give him my best one-finger salute. He spit at me, walking back the way he came. In the cell next to mine, Padma swore and hit her fist against the wall. I shook my head and approached the bars, resting my arms on them so my hands dangled out slightly.

"I wouldn't do that, Patil."

Her ragged breathing was the only thing I heard for a long moment. Then came the shuffling of her feet, approaching the corner where I stood. I just barely saw her chipped fingernails circle around a bar. "Why do you care?"

"Just wondering how a Ravenclaw got caught. You're supposed to be smart enough not to."

She laughed and I had to admit, it sent a chill down my back. "Of course," she said, barely a whisper. "Everyone think the Ravenclaw is smart. Everyone think the Ravenclaw can get away with anything. It's just like a Gryffindor to assume things."

"My apologies." I rubbed my hands together, itching to hold a wand again. I never felt comfortable after the war without my wand in plain sight. "What'd you do?"

I couldn't see her, but I knew she was smiling. Something in her voice, in the way she spoke, gave it away. "Padma, Padma, all alone and twinless. You Gryffindors are all the same. Even _her_."

"I never liked twins together." It wasn't far from the truth. Fred and George tormented me and I was a little happier than I should have been when news of Fred's death came about. "How'd you do it?"

"I'll tell you." Her hand reached out toward mine. I didn't dare try to meet it. "But you have to do something in return."

"What?"

Padma managed to grip a bar on my cell. I was a little impressed with her flexibility. "Tell me how you killed your darling boyfriend."

I shivered, resting my forehead against the bars. "Didn't you read the papers?"

She laughed again. "I did, but 'I didn't mean to' doesn't cut it for me."

"All right, all right." I shifted so I could settle against the wall. "Might as well since we'll both never leave."

Padma removed her hand. I could hear her slide down the wall and, after a moment, I did the same. Stories here always better told sitting anyway.

_Two Years Ago_

It hadn't been easy, approaching a known Death Eater as he ate alone in the Leaky, but Neville had done it anyway. Harry and Ron sat a few tables away, drunk as ever and still going on about old war stories. Neville was tired of it all – he just wanted to forget what happened in his last year at Hogwarts. A dare was a dare, though, and Gryffindors don't back out.

He took a deep breath and set his glass on the table. "Is this seat taken?"

Draco Malfoy lifted his head, staring at Neville with sunken eyes. His left cheek was a lovely shade of purple and Neville suspected it in the shape of a hand. Suddenly, the dare didn't feel so right anymore. He started to stammer out an apology, but stopped at Draco winced and held his side. Dare or not, Neville was an aspiring healer and wouldn't leave a patient alone. He sat and reached out a hand.

"Draco, I'm not here to hurt you. Let me _help_ you."

The shriveled Malfoy heir watched him with weary eyes before reaching out a shaking hand. He held Neville's as tight as he could for a moment before pulling back. At the time, it had been enough.

"Come on, let's get you out of here." Neville stood, offering an arm to him. Draco hesitated a moment before taking it, using Neville to hoist himself out of the booth.

Neville helped him past the laughing table where Harry and Ron sat. He helped him out of the door and finally, when they were alone, Draco collapsed into his arms. Neville took out his Portkey and brought them back to his apartment.

For two months, Draco wouldn't say a word. Neville fed him, dressed him, cleaning him – there wasn't a body part on the man that Neville hadn't seen or tended to. Even the most important one, about two weeks after Neville brought him home, was taken care of. Neville woke to find Draco between his legs, giving him one of the best sucking he had ever felt.

After an embarrassing and way-to-pleasurable morning with Draco's mouth, Neville tried to explain that he didn't need that kind of repayment. In fact, he didn't need any repayment at all. He was happy just helping get Draco back on his feet.

The next morning, he woke the same way and hadn't been able to change the habit since. After the third time, he pulled Draco to him and returned the favor.

Draco's first words, those two months after he arrived, were: "You fuck like a girl."

Neville had just smiled, rolled them over in bed, and proved to Draco just how wrong he was.

Things had gone well after that. Ron stopped calling him a ferret. Harry stopped trying to insist he was going to rob Neville blind. Hermione avoided the subject altogether. It wouldn't be long until she landed herself in Azkaban. Neville caught Draco sending her a letter that had simply said "Hang on, you'll make it out soon." Ron appreciated the gesture, as did Hermione when she finally received it.

Nothing ever lasted. A year after Neville brought Draco home, things changed. He would come home from work to find Draco tinkering away in the office. It was Draco's office now, since Neville never used it. Trusting the man he grew to love, he would simply go to the kitchen and start on dinner. Most of the time, Draco would emerge from the office to eat and fuck. Neville woke alone more times than not.

It was too much when waking alone turned completely into sleeping alone. Sheet wrapped around himself, Neville knocked gentle on the office door before entering. Draco sat at the desk, his back slouched over whatever he was hiding. Neville frowned, but didn't move closer.

"Draco? What are you doing?"

Draco jerked his head up, but didn't turn. "Nothing."

"I think we've gone past lying to each other. Please tell me?"

Draco tensed and Neville almost thought of giving up. But, just when he was about to leave, Draco turned around and shook a few papers at him.

"This?" He dropped the papers back down. "You wouldn't understand this."

"What wouldn't I understand about it?"

"You're not one of us." Draco turned back, resting his elbows on the desk. "Your blood is impure."

Neville straightened, trying to keep his calm. He had dealt with patients who thought the same, he could handle it. "Yet you used to bite me until I bled during sex. Merlin's balls, the fact that you had sex—"

"I did nothing but fuck you, Longbottom. Every heir needs his mistress."

The words felt stronger than any curse Neville suffered. He pulled the sheets tighter around himself. "Then why are you still here? Why aren't you back at your own manor, thinking of these things with your father?"

Draco laughed, the tone low and cold. "You," he said, turning his head impossibly slow. "You will be the first to be changed. I had wanted Granger, but she ended up somewhere better. I've sent the letter to have her sentence lengthened."

"They'll reject it." Neville took a step back. "They'll reject it and … and I'm calling the Aurors."

"Too late." Draco stood, turning to fully face Neville. A silver dagger clenched roughly in his grasp. "It's too late, you bloody Gryffindor."

Neville's eyes widened and he ran, as fast as he could, toward the floo. He was stunned before he reached it, his head hitting the side table as he went down. Draco was still laughing from the office.

"Yes, but why aren't _you_ dead?"

That had been the first question and I was proud of Padma for keeping quiet this long. The reporters never knew when to keep quiet. "I woke up strapped to a table. Malfoy forgot to make sure I was bound and, well, his little dagger was too close to my hands."

Padma snorted, banging something against the wall between us. "That clean?"

It hadn't been. Draco struggled with me as I tried to cut myself loose. My right foot no longer has any feeling in it. He then begged me on his knees, telling me that it was his father's wish that he did what he did. Stupidly, I believed him and put the dagger on the table. When he smiled, I knew that I had made a mistake. He threw a hex, and I threw a book. He went down, but he wasn't immobile. Terrified and not thinking, I grabbed another book and hit him across the head.

When the Aurors arrived (my neighbor heard my screaming), I was still beating every part of Draco I could find. His head was unrecognizable. His arms were broken. His chest was caved in. He wasn't breathing. He was dead.

I shrugged, not wanting her to know the small control issue I had. "Yeah, that clean."

"You're a bad liar, Longbottom."

"I expect the best from you then, Patil. Was your sister's death bloody?"

There was silence and the air shifted. I shivered, knowing that what I was about to hear would be worse than what I had done to Draco.


End file.
